It was a warm mansion, despite the extravagance it always seemed welcoming. As a large hand stretched out and stroked the long brown hair of a wide grinned girl who was more than happy to be scooped up in his arms, as his face glowed and strands of gray hair falling in front of his face while the young girl rested on the back of his left arm he held a book in the other. “How’s my little mouse.” The aging man spoke as wrinkles pulled and contracted across his chin.

The girl responded with a muffled, mhmm. More excited to be spending time with her Grandfather as he was about to read to her. The fire crackled and danced Alistair weaved his enchanting tale of might and magic, of knights and dragons. And as he reached the midway point between the story just as the Moon was rising through the sky a young Evangeline had dozed off head bobbing in her Grandfather’s lap. “I just wish I’d been a better Father, maybe my Son would have become the one who’s lap you’d sleep in. For now.” He said in hushed tones, “Time to get you to bed little mouse.” As he picked her up and shuffled himself off to tuck her in.

There was a pause, Alistar lingered in the doorway as Eva slept before he flicked off the lights. He walked into his study and sat at a grand desk carved from expensive wood as his will lay upon it. He took a quill and dipped it in ink. And among the many lines detailing how his estate should be divided a few stood out. To my Son I leave my vast businesses with whom you can rebuild our fortune, an intelligence will serve you well in dealing with these, for if handled efficiently and re-structured they will bring in a hefty sum. Our fortune isn’t something that can be regained in a lifetime but perhaps you can continue to lay the groundwork. As he skipped past the rest and began to write a new entry; his cursive writing began with. And to my Granddaughter Evangeline I leave my New York Mansion and all that’s inside it, as well as a sum a gold to keep you through hard times.

As his hand fell to the paper he sat the quill back and snuffed out the candle all the while sealing the Will back into an envelope. Outside his window the Moon hung lower and the clock chimed throughout the room as a soft series of knocks echoed from the first floor.

The door opened to reveal a tall and thin looking man with rugged facial features. Yet there was a strength to him, he felt able to slay monsters with a single motion as he stepped forward. “Evening. Been to long Alistair. Would have come to the door sooner but you had company.”

Alistair quickly ushered him inside, as he had two items wrapped in cloth. “Lurking outside long then? Cold nights for New York.”

“Only a couple hours, not the longest I’ve spent. But. The Knights are reforming, they’ll come for the fragments that is their namesake. They’re no longer safe with me, they know who I am. But you my friend are an unknown. They know not your involvement in my escape decades ago, nor our short friendship.” He said as he unwrapped the two long objects.

“You fashioned them into spears? A long and short spear, interesting. Do you wish to know where I hide them Callum?”

The man currently known as the infamous Van Helsing shook his head, and placed a hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “No. It’s better that I do not know. I'm endangering your family already, it’s best we cut ties one last time after this. Hide them where no one will think to look.”

“Then this is goodbye Chum. Do take care, there are Demi Humans who’ll need your help in the days to come.”

Callum covered his face with a cloth mask, and nodded. “I shall try. You are not the only one with grandkids after all.”

Alistair watched him take his leave and then turned to the table mulling over what to do with the weapons forged from fragments of the Demon killing Black Sword. He knew only a little of the Supernatural world, only that he needed to mask the presence of magic with the stones left to him by Callum. He’d devise something a way to hide them; he knew a few who might be able to help, but as he stood there deciding what to do next the world began to fade.. As a female voice sounded. “I’m losing the memory. It’s the end of this segment. Your Grandfather saw naught what he did with the spears.”

A young man awoke from the shared memory, as his Grandfather lay beside him wrought with old age and senile from Alzheimer's. “Well we have our lead then. Whoever created this Soul Stone is powerful, few in my arsenal can hope to match what this thing can bring to the table. If these spears are forged from a demon killing weapon then maybe they’ll have enough power to even my odds. We’ll need to find out who this Alistair is, and where he might have hid them.”

“That.” The woman said gleefully. “I can help with.”

Kyle had truly enjoyed his day out with Sam. It had been way too long since the two of them had been able to just go out for a day and be a normal couple, doing the things that normal couples did. Between the move back to Crown Ridge after school had let out for the summer and his nightly activities as Lyger, along with Sam’s summer job at the café, there just never seemed to be enough time. So their day out on the waterfront was a nice change of pace. In fact, it was so nice that Kyle didn’t want the day to end. However, just like every day, the sun began to set and darkness set in. Deep down, he wanted nothing more that to take the night off and spend a romantic night at home with the woman he loved. After all, Crown Ridge had gotten along fine without him before he came home from Lost Haven, surely it could survive one night without Lyger patrolling the city. However, against his deepest wishes, he changed into his alter ego’s suit, kissed Sam, and headed out the back window where no one would see him.

Lyger had moved from rooftop to rooftop until he had once again found himself near the Waterfront District, where he had spent the entire day with Sam. Under his mask he grinned as he wondered to himself if he found himself back here due to a subconscious desire to feel closer to Sam. However, before he was able to ponder this any further, Harry’s voice sounded from the com system built into his cowl.

“Kyle, there was a silent alarm at the Crown Ridge Museum of the Arts. Get over there and check it out.” The old man said curtly.

“I’m on it.” Lyger responded. The museum was located at the edge of the Waterfront District, just a couple of blocks away. It would only take him a few minutes to get there from the rooftops, but it was times like this that he missed having Kaiju at his disposal. However, the logistics of having the car in Crown Ridge proved problematic at best, however, Harry had assured him that he was working on the issue.

“According to the reports that are coming in, there’s some sort of disturbance on the roof. Get there and check it out.” Harry’s voice came back over the com.

“I’ll take care of it, I’m almost there.” Lyger replied as he leapt from the adjacent rooftop, firing a grapnel line from his gauntlet to the side of the museum. He silently climbed up to the rooftop. When he got up to the roof, he could not believe his eyes. He saw three all to familiar young heroes confronting a man on the rooftop.

“So why don’t you just put what you stole on the ground and hand it over to us.” One of the young women, Sammy Kadowski, otherwise known as Bast said as she stepped out in front of the thief. If her intention was to intimidate the man, Lyger’s guess is that she had failed, on account of the man charged directly toward her.

“You heard the lady.” Lyger said, his voice modulator making his voice much deeper than it normally was. Lyger, who had been standing on the ledge of the roof watching the others, jumped from his perch and landing between Bast and the assailant.

“Oh, I think I’ll hold on to this, thanks.” The thief said as he looked at the four heroes standing before him. “But I welcome you to try to take it from me.” He continued as he pressed a small red button on what looked to be a wrist watch, before he took a swing at Lyger.

Lyger easily blocked the attack and countered with a right hand of his own. However, the thief dodged the punch. Lyger blocked a kick with his knee, and landed an open hand palm thrust to the thief’s chin, which knocked the man backward.

“Nice shot.” The thief said as he lifted his mask up and spit out a mouthful of blood contemptuously before driving toward him with a leaping kick, which Lyger was again able to avoid.

“It’s over. You can’t run from us all.” Lyger said to the man, who was rebounding with another attack. The punch grazed the side of Lyger’s head, but the hero returned the favor, landing a stiff kick in the midsection which nearly doubled the thief over, followed by a straight right and to the jaw which spun him around. With the thief dazed, Lyger reached for the thief and grabbed the satchel which held whatever it was that he had stolen.

“Give it up, you’re done.” Lyger ordered the man, who looked up at him with a glazed look in his eyes.

Lyger was about to step toward the man, when suddenly the roof access door slammed open and a half a dozen Crown Ridge Police Officers emerged onto the roof with their guns drawn. Lyger tossed the satchel toward the officers, and then looked to the three young heroes.

“Move!” he said as he directed them to follow him toward the opposite edge of the roof. However, as they reached the edge of the roof, they saw several men standing before them on the next rooftop. The men were dressed in black and carrying what looked to be automatic rifles.

“This way!” Lyger said as he grabbed Bast by the arm and dragged her with him toward the other edge of the roof, just as the men in black opened fire. As Lyger and the others reached the edge of the roof, both the police and their assailants edged closer to them.

Feeling his heart drop at the sight, Skyler found a God given courage needed to retain his calm. It was Benjamin, wasn't it? This was the same wolf from before, the same wolf Skyler had been informed of, the same person he was supposed to meet. Nothing went according to plan, nothing following the beaten path laid out before them. Gulping his fears down with the weight of a drowning stone, Skyler took a calculated step backwards, his hand resting firmly on Mushroom's frame to prevent panic from the shivering canine. Knowing his limitations, Mushroom was no blood hound or a guard dog. He was a mere pup, someone who'd rather run than fight. As one could probably assess by looking at him, the canine lacked capability.

The same could however not be said about Skyler, not by a long shot. Tensing at the werewolf's transformation, Skyler's eyes fell to the murder scene stretching out before him. Blood and fluids laid splattered across the floor and though none of it came from an innocent bystander or an unlucky victim. It was all Benjamin, every cell of it. Had the poor boy gone through this same event back at his home when he transformed the first time? Was this going to be a repeated process every time he proceeded to transform?

Managing to steal a glance at the woman besides him, Skyler's eyes found home on the actions Ben continued to make. Yet again, he acted like a playful pup. Though his initial movement nearly brought the poor woman enough anxiety to break through, he reached her south of a second before lapping that wet tongue across his skin. The sight was enough to calm Skyler's nerves somewhat. He was still innocent, still harmless. Well, harmless could possibly have been the wrong choice of word. If scared, he could very well turn those fangs and claws into deadly weapons.

Lowering himself to a knee, Skyler's ground around Mushroom loosened as he placed an arm around the pup, whispering calming words into the canine's drooped ears. "It's alright, Mushroom." He spoke ever so softly, halfway hugging his companion before returning to gaze upon the yet harmless beast. "I know him." Skyler continued, uttering the sentence to Marie whom appeared in control of the situation. Perhaps though, she merely wished to be, but reality might have looked otherwise. In truth, Skyler was more afraid of himself than he was of Ben. Animals far from scared the boy, and given recent changes, he had grown quite resilient to exterior fear. However, internal anguish had been accelerated with a notable pace. Would the worst come to pass, Skyler loathed to think of the outcome not because of Ben, but because fire could very well consume all.

Location-Natural History Museum, NYC
Time-Noon

When Ji arrived. The smell of blood and flesh just reached her nose, making her nearly gag. It was just pure iron and many other putrid scents that just couldn't be described.

”This was one thing I did not miss when it came to newborn transformation. Vinegar smells better than this” she thought making sure she didn't use telepathy. The last thing she needed was to upset Ben. Hearing footsteps, she tended thinking it was someone that worked in the museum, she looked and relaxed a little seeing someone who dressed in casual clothing, but then tensed a little bit. She hoped he wouldn't flip out and scream for security at the sight of a werewolf in the storage. She didn't relaxed as he approached Ben, fearing the worse and she only relaxed when she saw the male wrap his arms around him.

She almost wanted to sigh in relief, but refrained herself from doing so and made the decision to finally talk to him for the second time since yesterday afternoon.

She had heard the female’s words and she wanted to roll her eyes. She already knew that she needed to stay calm and that was a big struggle given the current problem, but she couldn't just stay still. She had to get a big closer to Ben to communicate with him.

Slowly making her way to the transformed Ben, avoiding the bloody mess, she stood a few feet away. At first, she was going to say words, but she didn't want to freak him out, so she decided to use her limited telepathy to talk to him.

”Hello Mr. Reeves. I hope you do remember me. I was the one to deliver your pizza yesterday. Can you hear me?”She asked mentally. Using the skill outside her werewolf form did cause a little bit of a headache, she figured it would get better the more she used it. She just had a feeling that she would be using it more often if she was going to help Ben.

Hearing his reply, she smiled a little that didn't hold much emotion. She stood and turned her attention to the people he went into this area sigh, annoyance instantly appearing in her eyes at the female.

”Are you crazy? Why bring him here of all places?! We have to get him out of here without drawing attention to ourselves now!” She hissed out, not being too loud to be heard from the outside or to sting Ben’s hearing. Sensitive hearing did have its pros and unfortunately its cons.

Calming down, she took a deep breath and rubbed her temples. She looked at Ben. She raised a brow when he seemed to sniff for something, but shrugged it off thinking it was just him acting like a puppy he technically was. She looked back at the female with a sigh.

”Ok ok. What’s done is done. Now we have to find a way to keep him out of sight and out of here, and we also have to clean up the mess so no one calls the police.” She said in a calmer tone of voice.

The displays were nice, well laid out. And unlike his past home not a single thing looted or sacked no cleaning bots floating about no Sentry Bots patrolling the halls, no lasers or plasma turrets lining the walls. Had it not been for Supers and Supernaturals this world would be paradise for him, still as it were this world was nearly perfect filled with all sorts of pleasures he and Carol could enjoy. He pondered this and more whilst browsing the exhibits following the scent of blood although he did linger purposefully fully aware that whatever caused that much blood to be spilled might be lurking. Barron cared little for what happened to others so he had no reason to make haste to discover its source he did however want a coffee mug from the gift shop. The employee at the shop stopped to ask if he was looking for anything, and Barron turned to him. ”Yeah, you got these mugs engraved, etched into the mug itself?”

“Ah yes,” The Employee said with some feigned excitement. “We do have some more intricate designs over here behind the counter, I’ll bring as few out.” Turning on his heel the blonde haired Employee sat them across the counter as Barron picked through them, settling on a golden laced mug and getting it wrapped to go. Carrying the cheap bag in hand somewhat pleased with himself over his gaudy purchase, mugs were always something he liked to grab back in his other world so he didn’t mind stopping by and buying overpriced baubles mostly out of habit, but enough of that, he thought time to see what blood has been spilled.

The people that came with the tour guide had left somewhere else, already past this area of interest, leaving the amount of people in the area to a minimum to control collateral damage, or so he thought as he rounded a corner just off the main toured area he saw a young already transformed Werewolf, and several others. Two with magic and another a Wolf. He clapped his hands together and smiled. ”Did I miss the filming of Teen Wolf, no. Anyone? Well good thing I came, Furrykins here needs to be put back in his cage, and by that I mean his human guise. Can’t have young Pups roaming the halls of a Museum, who might you kiddos be then? All gathered round a Witch?

Barron snapped his fingers in remembrance and gladly exclaimed. ”My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself, name’s Barron Vanderbilt, Elder Blood Breed Vamp. If the Witch is up for it I may have a way of being normal back to Golden Boy here.”

As Skyler lowered to the ground, Ben’s nostrils flared and sniffed heavily. His exhale fluttered the boy’s colored hair causing his hood to fall off and reveal his true nature, that of demonic origins. Magic laced Skyler’s figure drawing a deeper inhale from Ben’s sniffer and the shadows of memories skirted over his mind. A dark, dank room filled with mold, darkness and age filtered through his attention and tightening his expression in concentration. ‘Remember… I know you?’

Emotions flooded Skyler’s attention filled with slight confusion and seeking for familiarity, the sense slowly faded when Ben’s ears caught the little dog’s whimper beside the boy. Immediately the werewolf snapped his attention to Mushroom, the pup whimpering and rubbing against Skyler in utter fear despite the boy’s attempt to sooth him. Ben snarled and snapped his teeth, his chest puffed out in dominance as words erupted through Skyler’s skull directed at the dog.

‘Down… submit!’ Again, Mushroom whined then rolled over. Ben sniffed briefly then snorted in disinterest before he attention turned to another new scent: that of Ji.

She was closer to the mess than Skyler was, her eyes looked over and seemed close to vomiting. When her words touched his mind, bewilderment hit her when she spoke his name and his head drew back. His bright, blue eyes studied her, his mind a mix of more beast than human at the moment. After several moments, he asked a question. ‘You… like me?'

Her body language confused him a bit when she smiled, his figure pulled back in slight concern at her flashing teeth in a smile. When it was clear she didn’t intend to attack, his attention shifted to another scent he hadn’t gotten the chance to investigate earlier. Again, his nose flickered in wild inhales as he located the area it was most concentrated at. Ben’s tail whipped back and forth heavily while he pawed through Holt’s unseen figure before yipping a bit and lowering his front paws. His tongue lolled out with a panting movement.

Their, Ji’s and Marie’s, conversation were interrupted by suddenly clapping. The sound echoed throughout the entire room causing Ben’s head to snap in Barron’s direction. An iron, thick scent of blood curled in his nose as Ben’s animal instinct ruffled instantly. His black lips pulled back and white canines revealed in a deep throated growl. His fur raised to puff out his outline and made him look larger than he was. Thankfully, he didn’t lounge but it was obvious he didn’t like the vampire in the least.

_{banner credit to Hellis}

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Time: Evening - Present Day
Location: Portal Grove, Paris

“How is your English?”

“All righ ms Ambaddor, gonna sen me to Shellence. Yeh?”

Bach pulled his lip up at that atrocious attempt. “He is awful.” He said in French. “It’ll be a miracle if Silence understands him.”

“Shush!” The Ambassador snapped at her pact partner. Then smiling at the ugly green goblin kindly she returned to Common Fey, “Remember, retrieve the documents and return them to Vienna. You will find Silence here and you will find Vienna here…” She pressed her thumb against the goblin’s forehead whispering a quick location spell, thumb glowing blue. “Be considerate of where you appear to him. Do not startle him, he is not used to seeing the likes of you as I am. There is an extra loaf of bread in the deal if you do this correctly.”

“Yeh.” The goblin replied then disappeared in a cloud of green dust. She waved her hand to disperse the dust, then frowned.

“Shall we?” Bach said stepping up to the door. Mandate had eagerly awaited to travel to the Faerie Realms Odette beckoned to the golem to follow transporting the trio to the banks of the Water Fey’s domain.

The lake’s true distance was a little over one hundred kilometres stretching before them, however the heavy undulating fog rolled across the water obscuring the view of the other side. The water was blue-gray, dark and still. A lone stone building rested in the water by a sandy shore. Green algae grew at it’s base, while the stone was smoothed by centuries of weathering. The doors opened outward.

“Mandate you are the heaviest one here, you’ll have to walk us along the bottom of the lake to Ville d’Ys.”

Bach removed his shoes, Odette did the same stowing their footwear away inside her purse. Beckoning Mandate to follow, they approached the small building stepping inside. Water immediately began to fill the small space, Bach and Odette spoke a water breathing spell, the spells allowed them to breathe underwater while simultaneously adjusting their bodies to the impending pressure. Bach grew gills, he coughed waiting for the water to catch up to them. While Odette had a small pocket of air surround her nose and mouth. Dipping into her purse she pulled out goggles and passed Bach a pair as well. The water was cold, sapped the heat from her baretoes.

Bach held onto Mandate’s right arm and Odette was on her left.

The sandy floor sloped opening wide, together they slid down deeper into the lake quickly dropping and kicking up the sand in their descent. When they were on steady ground the path before them was marked by dilapidated stonework. Angling deeper into the lake. The light from above filtered away. When the sand settled bioluminescent moss began to glow along the stonework, giving them enough light to see by. Odette pointed swimming up to hold onto Mandate’s shoulder instead. In the distance the sorceress could see the dark wall of a cliffside, the canyon where Princess Lassantra dwelled. Glowing bright greens and whites lit the path, colours obscured through the water.

They walked, shadowy figures swam in and out of view. The water fey were watching them. Their voices singing, the sound slowly reaching the trio. The lyrics in a dialect Odette couldn’t understand. Bach seemed to be listening, he gave no indication to worry. While Mandate trudged on. The fey swam closer and soon surrounded them, never swimming close enough for them to reach out to touch them. The scales of their tails illuminated by the moss as they moved through the water, their song unmistakable as a haunting chorus.

As they approached the canyon, caves and crevasses dotted the massive walls of the canyon. Domed buildings of glass and stone hung off the walls. Moss grew in abundance giving the structures a cold ethereal light. They passed under ancient archways, graying stone with no small amounts of vegetation growth. Colours of the local aquatic life and plants were dulled and muted. The stone buildings of varying age hugged the cliffside, hollowed, smoothed and open. As they walked the buildings grew in size, more water fey of various species swam close the chorus of their songs changing in pitch.

The path turned from sand to cobblestone. Some buildings seemed to be sinking deeper into the lake while others towered above them supported by the cliffside. Some areas of the city seemed dilapidated, discoloured and filthy. While others looked well maintained the further in they walked. Bleached bones littered the ground, stone statues of vaguely human shapes stood frozen, by far the creepiest feature. Some retained details of their facial expressions while others were eroded smooth. The statues were everywhere. After various visits of Ville d’Ys, to this day the sight of the statues sent chills down her spine. Remembering how close she had come to that fate.

They walked carefully avoiding the statues, keeping a wary eye on the water fey following them. They approached a very large arched opening carved deeply into the rock face, with care sigils marked the stone. Water Fey stood guard holding glittering spears barring their advance. Bach swam up to them and spoke to the guards. They immediately bowed their heads and moved back to their original position. Mandate walked them up stairs where the surface seemed to be breaking, a pocket of air generated by magic.

Their heads broke through the water, the magic working the water from their skin, hair and clothing. Drying them as they stepped up. Bach began coughing out the spell to reverse the gills. While Odette broke the bubble of air around her mouth taking a deep breath of air in. The hall was brightly lit, on the other end in a pool lounged Princess Lassantra herself on a pile of stone skulls. As they approached her pitch eyes settled on Odette solely. Her grey oily skin shone under the unnatural light, her long wispy white hair flowed over her chest, keeping her modest. Lassantra’s tail was deep green and sheen, her tail separated into legs taking a stand. No longer modest in the slightest. She had been waiting for them, Odette made prior contact to ensure their arrival wasn’t a surprise.

“Princess Lassantra, I humbly thank you for your kind reception.” She said bowing lowly. “It has been too long since my last visit.”

On sure legs Lassantra stepped up to Odette, she smiled showing her serrated teeth. Tipping the human’s chin up. A stranger would note that the expression Lassantra wore was anything but warm, but to a dear friend like The Ambassador the Princess was very pleased to see her. She pressed her lips to Odette’s, kissing her friend for a few moments. She hummed rather happily while Odette’s cheeks were touched with a little colour.

She leaned back, “Miss Ambassador, well met. You are right it has been far too long since I have seen your beautiful face, touched your soft skin-” Lassantra’s thumb brushed across Odette’s lips her voice rather low, “Met with those pouty li-”

Odette laughed nervously under the compliments, gently bringing Lassantra’s hand away. “I hate to insist but we are here on business, I was hoping we could speak with your Oracle.”

Lassantra sighed, “As you mentioned in your message. Perhaps I can steal you away for the evening after we meet with the oracle?” The Princess remained hopeful. “Discuss the interpretations while we relax in my bed-”

Odette interrupted the Princess once again, hoping to spare Mandate and Bach from witnessing the painfully personal conversation. “Princess, please. After you.” Gesturing to exit the hall.

Lassantra grinned then led the way.

“Falcon KICK!” Captain Falcon yelled at before lunging into a kick. Somehow, this man was able to float above the ground as he moved over a couple yards or so. There was also a fire that encompassed the man’s leg as it soared towards me. Thank God, this guy telegraphs his attacks by shouting out cute names. Therefore, I tumbled out of the way, curling up kind of like a pill bug as I avoided the man’s kick.

And I doubt I needed to be a cheerleader in high school to perform that maneuver. However, my arachnid anatomy makes almost any other gymnastic move extremely difficult to pull off, although not quite impossible. Normal humans don’t have to worry about balancing a giant spider’s abdomen while executing those acrobatic moves. I have not done any gymnastics since high school (and that was only cheerleading). So, I might have to practice a little in the future to figure out how to do back handsprings and such in my driderlike body.

But I was not in the clear just yet. I sensed the blue-garbed video game character leap up into the air in my direction. I had to bend my upper body towards the ground, positioning it parallel to the rest of my spiderlike body, so that my foe would safely hurdle over me. When he landed, I noticed that there was a slight delay between his landing and when he began to move again. It was some sort of lag or delay. I was not sure why it was happening, but hopefully I could take advantage of this ‘weakness’.

Captain Falcon immediately spun around and began his attack again. He threw jabs my way. Although I have enhanced reflexes and speed, these powers can only do so much in a fight. Even if you can anticipate an attack coming, that does not mean that you will know how to respond. Before I was transformed into a drider-like being, I don’t think I ever was in a fight. I obviously don’t have the training or the experience to know what to do in every situation.

Which each move that Captain Falcon performed, I was forced to retreat backwards, giving up ground as I went. When I bumped into the car that only a few moments ago I had crashed. This moment of hesitation almost allowed the futuristic racer to land a blow on me. He raised his leg up above his head and slammed it back down. Fortunately, I was able to recover from being backed into a corner and catch his foot as it rushed down at my head. I then shoved him back. While he was recovering from being flipped backwards, I hopped onto the roof of the car so that I was no longer cornered. I mean, I have the high ground now. Doesn’t that count for something.

When Captain Falcon tumbled backwards, instead falling flat on his back, he performed several back handsprings until he concluded with a backflip and landed on his feet a couple yards away. As I guessed he would do, the man dashed forward again. Since I was elevated above him, he decided to leap up into the air again, intending to attack me while in midair. However, before he could even reach me, a medium-sized fireball slammed into the man’s flank and knocked him to the ground. I immediately took advantage of the situation by snatching his foot with a webline and dragging him over towards me.

“Why couldn’t you have done that sooner?” I asked Kyra while I wrapped Captain Falcon in a cocoon of silk.

“I was just waiting for the right moment to intervene.” She said after she had blown off the smoke from her index and middle fingers. She had her hand positioned as it were a pistol, which made it look comical when some smoke was rising up from her fingers, since had to create that fire projectile in her hand.

“You can’t tell because of my mask, but I’m glaring right now.”

“PIKA!” I heard a high-pitched voice cry out in front of me. When I peered down, I saw a giant, yellow rodent that had two red circular patches on its cheeks and a tail shaped like a thunderbolt. It momentarily waved before dashing off down the street.

“Please don’t tell me that we’re going have to deal with all of them, too! How many of them are there now, anyways.”

I turned my attention back to Kyra, who had not answered my question, although she might have thought it was just a rhetorical question. I discovered that sitting next to her, there was a nine-tailed fox.

“Oh wow, I can’t believe I just noticed this.”

“Well, it did just walk up to me after Pikachu ran off.” Kyra responded to me as she tried stepping away from the Pokemon that was sitting beside her. However, with each step she took, the Ninetales followed.

“No, I mean that you transform into a Pokemon!” How cute.”

“I do not transformed into a Pokemon!” Kyra protested.

“Then transform and prove me wrong.”

Kyra looked down at the Ninetales and then back at me. “I hate you.” She casually threw out at me, showing that I was right. But then a smirk came to her face. “I would rather look like a Pokemon than what you look like. And it would be really mean to say that.”

“Ladies.” We both heard someone speak in our minds as we saw the Son of Osiris descend slowly to the ground. “I think this city would appreciate less name-calling and more figuring out how to stop this mess.”

Location- Inside Natural History Museum, NYC
Time: Noon

Yeong rolled her eyes as the call went straight to voicemail which wasn't unusual if Ji when having something rattling through the woman's mind. Waiting for a call from that new ward they had gained, making sure the youngest sister hadn't missed anything during her run, or just add towards their alright nearly nonexistent income. Too many problems were piling up on their plates and there wasn't enough time to short through them. She rubbed her right temple and quietly groaned.

"No answer?" Eric asked with his forehead creased. There was a moment of silence between the two. The girl showly shook her head while gently biting her lower lip. The man's breath was exhaled, as if there was a firs inside his chest ready to come out, before he cleared his throat." Alright then. Would you like me to drive you home?"

" No thank you Eric. I'll just walk back home or perhaps I'll stop by the meusium in order to relax." she said trying to cover up a yawn. His sighed told her something must have been bothering him. Granted it wasn't hard to figure out due to the human being an overprotective man." I'll be careful Eric. I promise."

They both said their goodbyes then Yeong walked towards the front door, only stopping when her boss asked where she was off to. She explained that something came up. He nodded which the same look her work friend shown." I'll work a double shift tomorrow since I'm leaving you short handed today."

" No you will not Yeong. You will either go home today or do something fun young lady. You're always working to help support your sister and that's a good idea but you need to relax too kid. Or else one of these day you'll be in the hospital from ammonia or something." The gentleman said in a stern voice. The werewolf nodded, figuring it was best choice, and smiled to help defuse the anger boiling inside. After a few more pleasant words the woman lift. Somehow she managed to keep her temper in check but she could still feel it clawing inside her body, trying to become free. She started to run towards the meusuem and then stopped once inside the place.

---

Marie let out a sigh of relief as the pair reassured her of their connection to Ben and the knowledge of his wolf form. She wondered briefly how they managed to track him down, assuming that there was either magic involved, or they too were wolves in human guise. Marie eyed the female stranger as she let out a string of accusatory and generally hostile comments about Marie’s choice of venue.

”Right,” Marie shot back, still overwhelmed at having witnessed Ben’s transformation, ”Sorry that I wasn’t in my right mind, it’s not everyday that you get a fledgling werewolf dropped in your lap during a leisurely stroll through a museum, my bad!”

She was incredibly frustrated, but there was no sense in taking out that anger on a stranger and risk further upsetting Ben.

”Sorry,” she quickly apologized in a lowered voice, ”this was just so sudden, I wasn’t sure where else to take him.”’’

Just as the other girl spoke, the cavernous storeroom was filled with an echoed applause. Marie turned to find a tall, brute of a man in fine dress standing in the doorway. He introduced himself as Barron Vanderbilt, a name Marie might have heard in passing, but she clung to what came from his lips next.

”E-elder Breed Vampire?” she questioned Holt in her mind. He flew from his position between Ben and the others and perched himself on Marie’s shoulder, remaining unseen.

”The most ancient strain of vampirism. The Elder Breed are an elite race of beings with immeasurable power, almost god-like. He knows you for a witch as well, meaning he either possesses a similar ability to the young wolf, or can detect magic through other means. Be weary of this man, Marie.”

”Why are you here?” she questioned Barron, keeping her wits about her and maintaining an air of confidence, whether or not she actually possessed any in the moment.

He mentioned being able to turn Ben back into his human form, but Marie wondered how that was possible, or if it were possible. Then again, what choice did any of them have other than to hear him out? There was no chance of them sneaking Ben from the museum in his current state. Perhaps the vampire indeed held the means to reverse Ben’s transformation, if only for a time. Wanting to speed the process along, Marie gave in to Barron’s request.

She sighed. ”Can we really change him back? If so, how can I help?”

---

Walking the halls of Princess Lassantra’s domain brought distinct feelings of nostalgia for The Ambassador. Princess Lassantra was counted among her closest and oldest allies, while the Princess would argue they were much more than simply allies. In recent years she sparsely visited in person, growing tired of Lassantra’s attempts to keep her in Ville D’Ys permanently. It was ultimately impractical, while Odette simply did not feel the same for Lassantra as the Princess felt for her.

At least, not anymore.

The halls were carved with high ceilings, (much like the entrance) deep into the canyon’s walls. The light was unnaturally bright from the domed light fixtures above, casting the hallway in bright green or blue hues. Lassantra and Odette walked side by side while Bach and Mandate were just behind them. The golem was dragging her feet in hopes to spend more time examining the new area but Bach urged her to keep up.

“Your message mentioned the need to speak to the Oracle but you did not expand on the reason. You are not one to focus on divination.” Lassantra commented in Common Fey running a hand through her length of hair, fixing Odette with eyes of pitch.

Odette shrugged easily, clasping her hands behind her back, “I am not seeking information of the future. I am hoping to gain some information on a particular spirit.”

“Oh?”

“I saw and fought the spirit personally a few months ago, a prophecy however is what has drawn my attention to understanding the spirit.” She explained, “I recorded the prophecy and will present the information to the Oracle when we meet with them.”

Lassantra nodded slowly, “Prepared as always, love.” The Princess grinned warmly, “I mean, My Lady.”

Odette remained neutral and even, the Princess, she knew loved to see a good reaction.

They arrived to the Oracle’s chambers, ornate heavy doors were closed with large stone knockers. They seemed too heavy for Odette to lift herself but Lassantra seemingly unaware of the weight knocked on the door three times.

“Enter,” spoke a hushed, melodic voice from beyond the slate doors. The voice came from all directions at once, echoing down the stone halls, lights flashing as the sound bounced from one corner of the cavern to the next.

The doors did not open as one might have expected. Instead, the golden designs laced on the outer edges, forests of kelp overrun by all manner of aquatic creatures, began to shift, writhing and springing to life. What was once stone quickly became a wall of green, with small crabs darting from its interior, but they did not open any further.

This was Odette’s first visit of Lassantra’s current Oracle and as she expected, eccentric presentation. If not a little impractical, Lassantra gestured for Odette to take the first steps. Odette pointed to Bach speaking in English for Mandate’s benefit, “You two wait outside, Mandate do not wander off. I will return soon.”

Bach shrugged digging out a pipe replying, “Good luck.”

Facing forward she carefully stepped through the kelp careful as she possibly could not to step on the vegetation directly. “Please excuse me for the disturbance.” she announced, pushing aside the lengths of Kelp disappearing into the greenery. Lassantra followed shortly after.

The pair was met with a massive, dome shaped cavern, much like the other rooms in the cliff’s side, that peered up to the surface by some magical lense at the center of the ceiling. Just below, a large well or pool took center stage, taking up much of the floor space with its circumference. The Oracle’s chambers were simple; a few shelves carved into the walls, lined with old scrolls, chests, and shells of varying sizes, moss growing in all corners of room, providing both light and atmosphere, small crustaceans crawled along the stone floor, moving almost in harmony with one another. Aside from the pool and skylight, the only other curiosity was a golden harp at the far edge of the room, strumming itself, the sound of waves and whalesong emitting from its delicate threads. The Oracle, however, was nowhere to be seen.

“Welcome, Princess,” The same melodic voice came from nowhere, carrying with it what sounded like rolling thunder. “What brings you to my chambers this day?”

Odette’s eyes cast around the chambers curiously, it was vastly different from the last time she had seen them. She felt as if there were eyes watching her from every angle, the voice reverberated through her bones rather pleasantly much like a classical piece of music. The word came to her again, eccentric. Water Fey were known for their traditions, showmanship and first impressions. Consulting the Oracle however, did not intimidate her.

Princess Lassantra stepped forward, “Oracle, my dearest friend The Ambassador of the Fair Folk is here to seek your guiding hand, your wisdom and knowledge. With my explicit consent of consulting you directly, she is my honoured guest and ally. Would you be so kind to aid her?”

Suddenly, all of the tiny crabs fumbling about began to scuttle to the pool at the room’s center, throwing themselves in and climbing haphazardly on top of one another, forming a grotesque mass intertwined crustaceans. The water from the pool rose up around them. Once it fell, a female figure stood in the resulting mist, draped elegantly in a white gown that looked like a waterlily, with silvery-green locks of hair, aqua skin, beautiful, angular features, and long, slender legs.

“Certainly,” the Oracle replied, floating above the pool, basking in a radiant and ethereal wind. The Oracle turned to Odette, her eyes completely white. “What is it you seek, dearest Ambassador?”

Odette made direct eye contact not shying away from the impressive display, and it was impressive as far as entrances went. While she often showed a proper greeting to Fey with a bow or introduction, Princess Lassantra had brought Odette above the Oracle as her guest. As such, Odette would simply cast a bad impression bringing herself down to equal ground.

“Oracle I seek knowledge of a spirit, one that is attached to a particular witch. A prophecy has been cast for my future, I wish to know more of the spirit that is foretold. Her alias is White Witch,” She dug her phone from her purse and played the audio clip, her own voice reciting the prophecy shakily. “I do not know her true name, I believe that White Witch is whom the prophecy refers to.”

The Oracle nodded, moving down to the duo and peering into the crystalline waters of the scrying pool. She waved a hand over the surface, turning the clear water grey and revealing the image of the White Witch in flight. The Oracle motioned for Lassantra and Odette to move closer, calling for a vial of dark liquid adjacent to the pool. A few drops of the thick oil made the vision clearer, a dark shadow appearing alongside the White Witch.

“Interesting,” the Oracle remarked quietly. She turned to Odette once more. “This ‘White Witch’ is indeed a formidable creature. Her body is one and her own, but her mind belongs to separate times; she bears memories of two worlds.”

Odette gazed down into the image of the White Witch, easily recognizing the tacky costume instantly. “Who do these ‘past’ memories belong to? Why does White Witch bear them?”

“She bears them because they are hers to bear. Memories belonging to a single soul, forged by lives not led in tandem. The witch’s mantle passes on to another, and yet the other is the same.” The Oracle’s words were frustratingly cryptic, but such was the nature of the gift of prophecy. Specific questions begat specific answers, but vague understanding of the future would be met with equally vague glimpses.

Odette squeezed her eyes shut expecting this vague language and poetic descriptions. She focused on keywords listing them as she thought of them, making connections. Lassantra played with the image of White Witch idly, bent over the well. “A life… not led in tandem and past memories may mean a very old soul, with centuries separating the two. Passing of the mantle is a form of… tradition observed in family lines of passing power or title to an heir. Not necessarily children.” She began uncertainly.

Lassantra noted, “That is a start. The spirit could be related to White Witch in magic and not blood.”

Odette turned to the Oracle, “What role does this spirit hold and wish to pass onto White Witch? Do you see any names?”

“The role of witch has been passed by necessity. Neither blood nor tutelage has gifted the Art, yet the blood holds its ancient spark.” The Oracle began, peering into the pool for answers. “The White Witch’s name is obscured to me, as is her current face. However . . . yes, she bears two names. The second is the first, the first the second. What she is called, and what she was called. The name is not yet clear.”

The Oracle had next to no information and yet she was able to divine, albeit very vague, details. Odette thought what else she could give, what evidence could a spirit leave behind. Distinctly her legs tingled with memories of past pain, the burns. Odette held her hand up to the Oracle, offering it, “I fought with this spirit, with White Witch previously. She burned me with spectral fire. Unique wounds that weren’t simply healed. Perhaps there are clues left upon my soul.”

Princess Lassantra bristled at the mere mention of someone hurting her friend then relaxed, “If this witch is formidable as the Oracle says, she may have charms protecting her identity. A familiar, a talisman, something of that effect.”

Odette thought searching her memories for clues, Joseph Mathers had a familiar named Holt but would the two witches have been close enough to pass along a familiar in death? She noted, “White Witch had a friend, his name was Joseph Mathers - another witch. He was connected to Puck, Robin Goodfellow. Puck was the one who gave me the prophecy.”

Lassantra paused turning to Odette, “You met with Puck? I did not know you were allied-”

Odette cut her off raising her hand, “No it was not under friendly terms. I will explain later. Oracle?”

The Oracle took Odette’s hand and touched it to the water’s surface. Instantly, the pool churned, turning into a swirling torrent. The Oracle stood back for a moment, surprised by the reaction. She then touched the pool, drawing closer, taking in the storm and all its omens.

“I . . . I see the Old World, a place where our kind once thrived. The White Witch is there under her first name. Wait!” The Oracle exclaimed, face showing clear excitement. “A face, beautiful by standards both mortal and Fey, with ivory skin and raven hair. And a name . . . Gwyneth.” The Oracle waved a hand over the pool, the storm clearing to reveal the image of Gwyneth, dressed in fine silk, standing at the edge of a dense wood. Her face was clear, her expression stern and indifferent.

“Gwyneth’s fire, the witch-fire, burned you, Lady Ambassador. She and the White Witch share the gift, though they do not share blood.”

Odette stared into the pool burning the image of Gwyneth into her memories, grinning slowly. Feeling a gain, an advantage. “What is the gift they share? For seeing shades of the dead or…” Odette guessed, trying to recall what little she knew of traditional witchcraft, “Gift of… a natural inclination for magical potential? Do you know what is unique about this strong spirit?”

“They share the gift . . . the gift of magic. Witches call it the witch-fire, the spark. Some awaken it, some are born with it. Those who possess the spark are the most talented of witches, granted power by an immortal ancestor. The White Witch and Gwyneth share this gift because they are two sides of the same coin. One face to mark the past, one to mark the present. Memories forged by lives not led in tandem.” The Oracle repeated this phrase, calling back to her earlier statements.

Odette nodded, “Therein lies the connection, yes.” Leaning over the rim of the well. “My only connections to White Witch are possibly Puck-”

Lassantra spoke up, supplying, “He would surely have protections in place for his privacy and those in his employ.”

Her fingers drummed against the well, “That leaves the spirit of Joseph Mathers. Through him could we gather more information of White Witch?” She asked the Oracle.

The Oracle spoke his name to the pool, which flickered for a moment before settling back to its normal crystal blue. “It would seem that his spirit is currently in another’s possession.”

She sighed, straightening. She had to change tact, ask not just series of questions but the right question. Keywords again she listed them, “Same coin, Witch-Fire, Gift, Gwyneth…”

She turned from the well, replaying the prophecy again for clues something to match what the Oracle had revealed.

Starting and stopping according different parts of the prophecy to match her keywords.



“Witch-Fire and Gwyneth.” Odette noted, beginning to pace. Lassantra watched her curiously.



“Same coin, Gwyneth, Witch-Fire, and White Witch…” Odette spoke quietly pressing the end of her phone into her forehead, reversing the playback to listen again. Her bright blue eyes opened, realization making the final connections. “Gwyneth intends to possess White Witch’s body. ‘Devour the flames of humanity,’ Gwyneth is not simply haunting White Witch they share a body. Gwyneth intends to take complete control, merge past and present…”

Odette quickly stepped back up to the well, knowing the right question. “How is Gwyneth going to accomplish possessing White Witch’s body? Become…” She vaguely gestured trying to articulate it in Common Fey. “The side of the coin facing up?”

“Possession, my lady, requires the presence of two souls. In this case, there is but one soul. Two sides of the same coin, but the same coin nonetheless. They share all things for all is theirs to share. What belongs to the White Witch belongs to Gwyneth. Body, mind, and soul, all are shared . . . nay, not shared. All are . . . experienced, yes. What is past is what was. What was is a distant memory, a memory of the past, of the White Witch’s and of Gwyneth’s past.”

She felt she was grasping at air, she was growing exasperated with the Oracle’s descriptions and her usually high amounts of patience were dwindling. “Lassantra what do you think?” she sighed.

The Princess approached Odette cupping her cheek, “You are thinking far too hard. Focus on how they are the same.”

The human frowned, her brow creasing and pulled out of Lassantra’s hands glaring down at the pool. “Same-coin, same person, same soul? White Witch is Gwyneth and Gwyneth is White Witch….” Odette squeezed her eyes shut. “How does White Witch and Gwyneth intend to access these distant memories? To grow stronger?” She asked the Oracle.

The Oracle peered into the well, searching for the answer to Odette’s query. “One soul, two halves. Flesh holds the first half, flesh holds the memory. But the second . . . earth holds the second, bound by magic to pieces of this world. When all are brought together, the second half is complete. When two halves combine, the old witch is made whole again."

Odette perked up, her irritation melting away. “She wants to become whole again! Through these memories kept in objects, possibly old possessions that belonged to Gwyneth. She won’t be complete until then and when she is…’” Her excitement at the information she had been digging for crumpled, she couldn’t hide the emotions racing across her expression. “She will destroy me… Unless...”

Lassantra blinked not quite following where Odette had been intending to go. “Unless what, My Lady?”

“Unless I can either stop her or help her. If I were to… Engage with Gwyneth, convince her she is in need of my help. Perhaps I can void the prophecy.” She reasoned out loud. She glanced at the Oracle, “Can you by any chance see what some of these earthly objects are or where they are?” She didn’t hold much hope, an old witch like Gwyneth would make this difficult for anyone to discern the importance the objects hold.

The Oracle looked back at the well, tracing patterns in the water’s surface, searching the vastness of time for an answer. “They are nine in number, scattered the world over. Their names are . . ..” The Oracle paused, trying desperately to divine a name or their nature. Something blocked her vision. Old magic was at work, providing more questions than answers. The Oracle gave what she could.

“They are nine in number and their names are thus: Gwyneth’s Eye, Sight, Might, Right Hand, Left Hand, Womb, Mind, Breath, and Heart.” The Oracle exhaled, straining herself to peer through Gwyneth’s enchantments. She was visibly exhausted. “I-I c. . . cannot s-s-see more.” the Oracle sighed, stepping down from the well.

“I am sorry, My Lady.”

Odette was typing the notes into her phone and simply could not hide her expression of disappointment. Lassantra nodded then approached the Oracle.

The Princess’s hand slid down the length of the Oracle’s arm, long uninterrupted phrases of magic poured from Lassantra’s lips. Language that was beyond Odette’s understanding but similar in tone to water fey dialect. Bach often noted their language had a lyrical rhythm. The magic bloomed around Lassantra and the Oracle. The Ambassador guessed Lassantra was helping to restore some energy to the Oracle.

Together their hands dipped into the pool again, Odette joining to channel more power.

The Oracle’s hands steadied, her exhaustion fading. Her mind was focused, now more than ever. As the three touched the water’s surface, an image appeared, a maplike representation of the United States. A light shone in two locations, marking them as areas where Gwyneth’s possessions might surface.

“I see them now! Gwyneth’s Eye and her Sight have come into focus.” The Oracle leaned in closer. “It would seem that Gwyneth’s Eye has been reclaimed, but her Sight is yet untouched. It lies somewhere in the New World, in the state you know as ‘Nevada.’ I cannot see its true nature nor sense its exact whereabouts, but it is there.”

Slowly removing her hand from the water Odette flicked the remaining droplets free. She smiled up at the Oracle, “I can work with that. Nevada is a rather large state, but I have my resources. Thank you, Oracle. It has been a pleasure working with you.” She lied.

“The pleasure has been all mine, Lady Ambassador.” the Oracle replied with a simple bow of her head. She began to turn away, but stopped to look back at Odette. “If I may speak out of term for a moment. I would advise caution in your future affairs with this White Witch. Gwyneth, from what I have gathered, is a vengeful, vindictive creature. You saw how her magic exhausted my vision, you have felt its burn. This is but half of the true power she wields. If I were to offer you any further counsel, I would suggest not engaging in a fight with her, but that choice is yours.”

Having said her piece, the Oracle turned away from the pair, walking back up to the well. She stood at its center for just a moment, then was engulfed by its waters, her body falling away into large squadrons of tiny crabs, which quickly scuttled along and continued their miscellaneous tasks and dances around the room.

Odette tapped away on the touchscreen of her phone, writing down everything the Oracle said, noted, and cautioned. Lassantra tugged on the human’s elbow while Odette continued to write her notes. Eager to discuss the details with Bach firstly, but Lassantra began insisting on dinner then entertainment and other frivolous activities to eat up her time.

“Please won’t you stay, for one night?” She asked, pulling Odette’s attention away from the phone.

Odette made the mistake of making direct eye contact, feeling the resolve of wanting to beat a quick retreat dissipate. How could she say no, now?

Armed with new information, a goal and a target The Ambassador could prepare for either reality of helping or hindering Gwyneth. Anything to derail the prophecy. Unbeknownst to the White Witch, she now had a competitor.

---

Michael’s eyes fluttered open.

Darkness filled his vision and greeted him when his sight adjusted into focus. The monotone color scheme blended into an endless mass within his cell drawing out a long mental sigh, his figure gradually shifted upright within his bunk. A thin, worthless blanket drifted to the ground in his restlessness as his legs twisted to dangle over the bed’s edge. A twitch came unwillingly when the soles came into contact with the ice cold concrete flooring. His torso hunched over while his mind knocked away the hazy of sleep, the rhythm of the day coming into the muscle memory and followed by the stiffness in each bone.

On instinct, his eyes snapped shut when the cell flooded with fluorescent. It had happened like this for several years and his mind so in tune with it, Michael naturally did automatically. His right hand lifted to farther shade his eyes as his blond head shifted toward the sound, the creaking metal echoing off the confined room. The door opened cautiously allowing a single guard, more intact than his last one, to cautiously enter. His hand hovered over his holster and fingers easily twitched to place a bullet through either the head or the chest, snuffing out whatever life remained within these walls.

The thought made Michael darkly chuckle. Immediately he lifted himself upright and turned to face the guard with a wryly smirk, his figure dressed in pale olive scrub like uniform and shoeless since last night. The guard, unsettled by his stare, tightened his hand about the handle of his gun for several moments. Their eyes met and filtered into each other, both seizing each other up. A battle of the wills seemed to occur between them until finally, the guard broke it off by simply tossing a pencil and pad upon the bunk’s end.

“Write your fucking meal requests for your last week here, asshole. They are done with you” The man spat, saliva dripped from his lower lip and smacked Michael’s face.

Causally, his right forefinger lifted then wiped it away. Michael’s eyes darkened in that moment when his figure lowered back down to the bunk, his hand pulled the pad and pencil into his lap. Slowly he tapped the pencil end against the paper. Tap...tap...tap went the end, the black lead edge stained the white paper darker and darker gradually. From his peripheral vision, he caught the guard nearby frown deeper at the sound. Pausing, much to the younger man’s relief, he scratched something over the surface creating a series of chicken scratch before he returned to once again tapping the paper with it. His tongue edged out and the end was bitten lightly to imply he was focusing on his next words, the tapping trying to imitate a bad habit. In reality, it was a purposefully tactic to draw irritation in the guard.

It worked well.

The younger guard snapped out loud, “ Will you knock that the fuck off? You got the paper to write your meal requests, not drive me crazy with.”

Michael’s head leaned up from his hunched over position, his greenish eyes caught the guard’s attention enough to lower his hand to his gun more. An obvious warning. Michael’s lips narrowed into a slitted smile and his greenish eyes filled with mirth to see the man squirm and glare fruitlessly. Both knew the guard was unable to touch him despite being within the same room. Unless Michael attacked him, using the gun unprovoked would come with consequences.

The irritation the man felt was a wonderful study over the effects a trickling patience created in the expression of an individual. Especially when they were about to lose it completely. It kept his ability to read people alive and well practiced, a matter he appreciated since he aimed to put it to good use much later. Flipping the pencil through his fingers, slow at first but quickly picked up speed, he began to talk.

“But it’s so fun to study your reaction…” His words taunted, lightly.

The man’s teeth clenched and fingers tightened about his gun, still hoisted. For a soft moment, Michael considered ridding the world of another filthy insect until a voice spoke.

“He’s just trying to provoke, Thomas. Just ignore it. He’ll be out of here soon enough,” A figure donning a white, pristine lab coat stepped into view from behind the guard. About in his late sixties, he placed an aged hand onto the guard’s shoulder to calm him. Michael recognized him as the head doctor, Abraham Winstone.

“Now,” Winstone continued while his grey eyes never left Michael, “Would you kindly merely pass back the pad or complete your request?”

“Of course… doctor. There’s very little to do within here and one has to keep their mind sharp or watch it fade away.”

“I think, in your case, Mr. Garth the world could live to lose a mind like yours. When you’re finished, slip the pad and pencil into the food slot where the kitchen will receive it.”

Without another word, both Thomas and Winstone left Michael once more isolated from any human contact. The man smirked idly to himself then continued to scritch-scratch across the paper.

Three of the Immortals camped outside of the Pacific Point City Hall, taking cover behind a nearby car. These three men rested their back against this car as energy shots soared over the top of the vehicle. One of the men, Odysseus, took any opportunity that he could take to return some fire with his arrows.

“The enemy team has a Hanzo, a Zenyatta, and a Roadhog.” A woman with a British accent communicated with her own allies.

“I’ll make your regret those words.” Odysseus mumbled under his breath as he stood up again to fire another arrow at the woman who had the three heroes pinned down.

“You do know that Hanzo is a video game character and not some sort of derogatory term, right?” Talus cautioned his fellow Immortal.

“Didn’t know.” Odysseus said as he aimed his arrow. “Don’t care.”

Since his target kept blinking into and out of reality, as it seemed, Odysseus had to anticipate where this woman would appear next. Once he had decided where that would be, Odysseus let the arrow fly. If somebody were watching him shooting the arrow, that person would have thought he was aiming at nothing. However, a few moments later, the woman reappeared right in the line of fire of the arrow. Taken by surprise, she did not have the time to react to the incoming projectile. The arrowhead pierced through the woman’s goggles, shattering it on impact. However, instead of the arrow becoming lodged into the woman’s eye, as would be the natural result, she dissolved into numerous pixels before disappearing entirely. The arrow, meanwhile, fell harmlessly to the ground.

“Wow.” Talus complemented Odysseus, “I wouldn’t guess that you knew that headshots in FPS games dealt more damage!”

“I didn’t.” Odysseus bluntly answered the metal man, “Any projectile that pierces through the skull and into the brain is almost always game over.”

“Alright…” Talus said, slightly concerned about the reason why Odysseus decided to go for the headshot. “We better rush in before something else appears to stop us.”

Almost as if he had jinxed them, a giant, green pipe rose up from the pavement. And jumping out of this bizarre pluming was a short man dressed in a red shirt and cap, along with a pair of blue jeans.

“Here we go!” The man shouted as he exited the green pipe.

“This should be a piece of cake.” Odysseus declared as he lifted up his bow again and took aim at the short plumber.

“Wait! I wouldn’t do that!” Talus warned Odysseus, but it was too late. He had already let the arrow fly towards the red-garbed plumber. Immediately, Talus tackled Odysseus to the ground, since he knew what was going to happen.

While the arrow was darting towards the plumber, it appeared as if he would suffer from the same fate as the woman whom Odysseys had already taken down. However, at the last second, the plumber whipped out a yellow cape from his back pocket and swung it in front of himself. When the arrow came into contact with this magical cape, the arrow was somehow turned around and sent back towards where Odysseus had been standing.

“You’re welcome.” Talus told Odysseus, who brushed the metal man off, even though he almost had his own arrow hit himself.

“I’ve got this.” Gajana told his two teammates as he stepped out from behind the car that they had been using as cover. The elephant man towered over the plumber. “Alright, Mario. I think it’s time for you to go back to the Mushroom Kingdom, where you belong.”

Mario, in response to Gajana’s threat, immediately knocked the giant man off his feet by performing a breakdancing move. Then, the red plumber grabbed Gajana’s feet and somehow started to swing him around in a circle, like he would do in his 3D platformer games. After several rotations, Mario finally released Gajana, sending the elephant man into the air. Due to the trajectory of Mario’s throw, Gajana crashed into the roof of the car that Odysseus and Talus were hiding behind.

“Sorry, G.” Talus told Gajana, “You basically brought that upon yourself by uttering the famous last words.”

“Shut up.” Gajana responded.

Then suddenly, countless metallic cubes burst out from the roof of City Hall, scattering in all directions.

“And what are those?” Odysseus pondered aloud.

“You’re the nerd, Talus. Shouldn’t you know.” Gajana said.

“I have no idea what those are.” Talus answered his teammates, “Unless you want to hear the obvious answer.”

---

This is crazy. This city has been invaded by a horde of video game characters and all because villain, who called himself the Game Genie, has some buff with a single hero, whom no one hear has heard of. Now, I have a human-sized, orange lizardman intent on skewering me. It was almost like a dance that we performed as the lizardman jabbed at me with the lance in his hand while I ducked and side-stepped his attacks.

The lizardman suddenly stopped in his tracks and began inhaling in order to fill up his lungs with air. When his lungs were full, he breathed out a stream of fire. I barely evaded this jet of flames when I leapt backwards. Then the whole attack and dodge routine continued until it tried its fire attack for the second time. However, this time, Kyra, who saw the lizardman use its fire breath moment ago, tossed herself in between myself and the lizard warrior in order to take the brunt of the attack.

“Are you alright?” I asked her in the middle of combat, concerned because she had just been scorched by the lizardman’s fire attack.

“Hey, you’re the one who said that I transform into a Ninetales.” Kyra joked with me as she planted a kick in the lizardman’s gut. Due to her powers, Kyra’s body was able to safely absorb the heat and flames that the lizardman had spewed out. Now that it was momentarily stunned by having the wind knocked out of it, Kyra stepped aside to give me an opening. I then hit him with a webline and yanked him towards me. Using similar physics as a baseball batter would to send the ball flying, with one well-timed punch, I launched the lizardman a few feet in the opposite direction, causing him to land on his back.

“We really need to draw these battles away from the city. We can’t let innocent lives get harmed in the crossfire.” Kyra said. At that moment, I heard a clunk noise of a drawn bow resound off in the distance. Fortunately for Kyra, I was able to snatch the arrow from out of the air before it could hit her by using my enhanced reflexes. Several yards ahead of us, we saw the assailant. She wore yellow clothes, although what was peculiar about her was that she had rabbit ears and weirdly shaped feet.

“But how?” I asked, “These guys are coming out of the woodworks!”

“Thundara!” Another voice, this one of a man, shouted aloud from a distance. Above both Kyra and I, a dark storm cloud formed. If it were not for the timely intervention by the Son of Osiris, who formed a bubble shield around the three of us.

“We just are going to have to find a way.” We heard the Son of Osiris speak inside our heads via his telepathy.

“What’s that?” Kyra pointed towards a large, flying mass that was quickly approaching them. At first, it looked like a swarm of insects. However, once it came closer, it was clear that whatever made up this ‘cloud’ was not organic. They were hundreds of metallic cubes tumbling through the sky, emitting red beams down towards the ground.

“How could this get any worse?”

The Hybrid stood in the center lane of the Harrison Bridge, which connected the boroughs of Olympia and Royal Park. Traffic was stopped in both directions as drivers and passengers alike watched in an uneasy silence, waiting for the madman to make a move. Several vehicles, which had swerved to miss The Hybrid as he initially touched down on the bridge, teetered precariously on the edge of the bridge, waiting for the slightest movement to send their vehicle over the edge to a watery crave.

Icon touched down in front of The Hybrid, looking around the bridge surveying the situation as he raised his right hand, his palm facing the maniac.

“What is it that you want, Hybrid? There’s no need to hurt anyone else. Let’s talk about this.”

“Oh, that’s amusing.” The Hybrid said, his voice completely deadpan as his gaze met Icon’s.

“What’s that?” Icon asked, trying to keep the madman preoccupied.

“You.” Hybrid said flatly. “You work so hard to protect the people of this city…Hell, the world. And they love you for it.” He continued as he turned his back to Icon and began pacing along the center lane.

“But when things break down, when the niceties melt away…what is it that you’re left with?” He said with a hint of glee in his voice. “I’ll tell you exactly what you’re left with.” He continued as he leaned up against one of the vehicles that had found itself teetering on the edge of the bridge.

“You’re left with madness. You’re left with chaos.” He said as he rested his foot against the car’s bumper.

“You’re left with me.” He said as he pushed back with the bottom of his foot, sending the car tumbling off of the bridge, careening toward the dark blue water below.

“No!” Icon cried out as he watched in horror the car go over the side of the bridge.

Without thinking, he took off after the vehicle. He rocketed over the side of the bridge, and raced past the mid-sized sedan. He turned in mid-air and moved upward, and caught the front end of the vehicle in his hands. He began pushing back against the momentum of the car, and could feel the metal and plastic of the car’s frame straining under the stress, but slowly, the car began to rise. As Icon lifted the car back onto the bridge, he glanced into the vehicle and saw a middle aged couple and their daughter, who looked to be a freshman or sophomore in college. They were terrified, but he could see the relief in their faces as he placed the car back on the bridge. Once the family in the car was safe, Icon turned to face The Hybrid, who was nowhere to be found.

The order came from New York five minutes after news of the Game Genie's invasion of Pacific Point first went online. Poseidon Energy was going on lockdown. Briley Patton didn't know what the Game Genie wanted in Pacific Point, but if he decided to come after Poseidon she wasn't going to make it easy for him, not by a long shot. Thus the facility began to look less like a research lab and more like an army barracks as the security personnel armed themselves and settled in for what might have been a long siege. Dr. Martel, in the meantime, had bigger issues to worry about then a Pac-Man trying to eat the security doors.

"Yes, this room has been cleared, there's no need to clear it again!"

"Y'sure Doc?" the security guard said suspiciously. "Bosses said they needed every room checked and no one's been down here yet."

"You have it on my authority that there's nothing hostile in this room," Dr. Martel said brusquely, strategically blocking the entrance to the room with his body. "Go find Fletcher and confirm with her if you have to, and stop wasting my time!"

"Sheesh, fine. Crotchety old man."

Martel ignored the insult and slammed the door shut, breathing a sigh of relief. "Of all the times for something to invade the city..."

"You're not going to shove me into the locker again are you?" Riley asked meekly from her position in the corner of the room, where she was crouched under a table and playing with one of the game systems Fletcher had smuggled in for her.

"Do you want me to?" Martel snapped.

"N-no, I've almost beaten Plague Knight!" the half-alien girl lamented. "And it's hard to play this game in the dark!"

"Riley," Martel grumbled, trying to calm himself. "I'm just trying to make sure no one barges in here and sees what's going on, for your safety. I don't know if I can find a place for you to lay low until this is over but until then you need-"

But all thoughts about how they were going to hide Riley were quickly forgotten as a thunderous boom echoed through the building, shaking the dust from the walls from the sheer force. The lights flickered and dimmed as the alarm klaxons started blaring, causing Riley to flinch and cover her ears, dropping her game with a clatter.

"Wh-what is that?" she cried, sounding close to a panic.

"That would be the alarm system Riley, means something's going very wrong. And if the lights are going that means there's something wrong with the generator."

"Doc, Doctor Martel!" came a voice from the corridor, barely audible over the screeching sirens. "We need you down in C Wing, the Type II shot its regulator."

"What?" Martel shouted back incredulously. "That generator is built to withstand a plane crashing into it, what the hell happened?!?"

"It ain't built to stop a tank, and some weird spherical tank with four legs just drove through the wall and attacked it," the guard shot back, with the tone of a man wishing this was all just a really surreal dream. "The tank's gone but the Type II has a regulator error and it's leaking, I don't know if it's going to blow or not but-"

"Alright, you made your point, tell them I'm coming! Riley stay here and keep low, I'll be back when these idiots get sorted out." Martel directed that last sentence at a confused and scared Riley as he ran out the door, leaving the half-alien girl alone. Trying fruitlessly to ignore the chaos and occasional thunderous reports echoing through the hallways, Riley crouched down in a corner and tried to focus on the game Jordan left for her, hoping it would keep her mind occupied. As she lost to Plague Knight again, she suddenly realized that some of those thundering booms were getting louder.

There was a loud crash as the wall opposite of Riley exploded in a shower of metal shards and debris. Riley shrieked, throwing up her hands to defend herself from the wave of dust and detritus flying at her, with middling success. Blinking the dust from her eyes, she caught the sunlight reflecting off the domed heads of three intruders, wearing what looked like those suits that humans wore to go into space, painted dark black. Instead of a right arm, all three had boxy rifles attached at the elbow.

"This factory is at 7 HP," one of them announced in a mechanical sounding voice. "We should capture it in one turn."

"For Lord Sturm!" a second one cried out. "For Black Hole!" Riley heard a series of mechanical whirring noises as they turned to look at her in the blue jumpsuit. They looked like robots under those domed heads.

"Um...resistance is futile?"

"Alert! Alert! Blue moon infantry!" the space-suit soldier shouted, raising his gun-arm threateningly. "Eradicate threat!"

Riley jumped behind a knocked over lab table as bullets filled the air where she was sitting. Making a mental note to apologize to Dr. Martel for not laying low, she charged a psiblast and vaulted the table, sending her shot right at the lead space suit guy mid-somersault. The shot landed cleanly in his domed head and sent him flying out of the hole in the wall. Not stopping to think, Riley charged her fist with psi-energy and threw a punch at the closest bad guy before he could react, only to be startled as she punched straight through his head and he dissolved into strange multicolored particles. Riley stood there mesmerized as the particles flowed past her outstretched fingers before a click behind her brought her crashing down to earth again.

*CLANG*

Riley spun around at the sound in time to see the third soldier flying into the wall and exploding in the same shower of particles. Looking around for her savior, Riley's jaw dropped when she saw the knight in full blue plate standing triumphantly in front of her, the over-sized horns on his helmet just coming up to her height.

"Ha ha, it seems Tinker Knight doesn't make them quite like they used to!" the knight said triumphantly, hoisting his weapon on his shoulder.

"I...I don't believe it!" Riley squeaked excitedly, bobbing up and down like an overactive preschooler. "Y-you're...you're...!"

"Shovel Knight, at your service m'lady," Shovel Knight announced with a flourish, the sunlight gleaming off of his might shovel blade as he bowed deeply.

"Uh, I'm...Riley!" Riley said, blushing slightly as she attempted a curtsy, still overcome with excitement. "Wow, what an honor, I was just playing your ga-" she began before another bang rocked the building again.

"Zounds! The Order of No Quarter has redoubled their efforts since we last fought," Shovel Knight mused shaking his fist in defiance. "But it is good to know there are just and honorable knights such as yourself who stand against them!"

"M-me, a knight?"

"Of course, I saw how you fought off those brigands with your masterful use of fisticuffs and Flare Wand!" Shovel Knight said proudly, hoisting his shovel onto his shoulder. "You should come and fight alongside me! The wicked servants of the Enchantress stand no chance against our combined efforts!"

Riley could barely contain herself at the thought of fighting alongside a real hero like Shovel Knight. Too excited to speak, Riley found her words when she remembered that she wasn't supposed to be out causing trouble right now.

"I want to, sir," Riley explained sadly. "But if anyone saw me like this I would get in trouble."

"Hmm, then perhaps a disguise?" Shovel Knight suggested. "Normally I would not condone such skullduggery but if standing up against the Order would put you at risk..."

"Ooh ooh, I think I have something!" Riley squeaked, dashing to a locker in the back, the door having been blasted off its hinges when the black suited soldiers crashed in. Shovel Knight respectfully looked away as she quickly changed into a modified suit of black body armor.

"Mr. Martel made this for when we started doing field testing for my abilities!" Riley explained, attaching the inhibitor rings around her wrists as she spoke.

"And a fine suit of armor it is!" Shovel Knight said with a hearty laugh. "If you are in disguise though, perhaps it is best if I don't call you by your given name."

"Uh, okay...what about..." Riley's eyes darted around the room before resting on the bag that Jordan left for her, stuffed full of those Star Trek DVDs.

"...Voyager?" Riley tentatively suggested.

"A name that invokes discovery and adventure," Shovel Knight contemplated.

"I like discovering and adventuring things!" Riley piped in.

"Then it suits you fine! Come Lady Voyager, there's villains to be dispatched!" And with that, Shovel Knight charged off out of the hole in the wall, shovel held aloft as an excited Voyager bounded alongside him.

Carol had a lot to prepare for, this Evil Cabal was soon to be formed and for that they’ll need something on this Broker figure, an unknown, a dangerous unknown. Among the things Barron and Carol discussed were contingencies for if Broker betrayed them or vice versa. With a tall sparkling glass filled with some sort of champagne as a summoning circle lay before her. As papers relevant to Broker littered the desk as the circle lit up and glowed something began to come out.

A thin mist surrounded Carol, a wispy black spark collecting all the shadows from every corner, coalescing into a solid form. At first, this was nothing more than a dark apparition with a vaguely feminine frame. Slowly, however, the shadows peeled away, revealing the goddess in her mortal splendor. There stood Hekate, known and seen by others as the Greek witch, Lydia Velis. She took a moment, stretching her arms above her head, her mortal garb as graceful and flowing as her divine counterparts.

“Ah, Mrs. Vanderbilt,” Hekate greeted the woman with her usual sultry tone, “To what do I owe the honor?”

There was a moment, where Carol pondered if she’d should learn that trick, popping into a place from anywhere. Still she get down to business. “Morning Miss Velis, if you are not quite aware, a Demon of Greed, the Sin Himself Broker approached us just today, asking us to join his Cabal, or Council of sorts. A Evil Inc so we, don’t trip over each other’s plans. Still, the thought of dealing with demons is troublesome, I know not how well we’d deal with him should we have a disagreement of the violent sort.”

As Carol paused to pass some files towards Hekate, she continued. “I’ve done some research in the short timespan before calling you, other than his dealings that are known and his Gluttony Daughter we have few options aside from full frontal confrontations, and we’re not about to put our power to the test against Sin Demons if we have other options. Which Is why I called you here today, if Broker proves to be more risky or even treacherous to our plans, I’d like to have a contingency.”

Hekate smiled at Carol’s cunning. It wasn’t often that mortals were so wise to the underhandedness of Otherworldly forces. It was refreshing.

“You are certainly a clever one. I see why Barron is so fond of you.” Hekate remarked, glancing at the files placed before her. She certainly knew of the Broker. Certain witches in her company had the displeasure of dealing with him in the past. Surprisingly, the two’s paths had never crossed, though Hekate assumed that would no longer be the case.

“The best way to arm yourself against a being such as Broker is to keep your secrets close; always have a back door, a loophole. Not only that, but you must be aware of most, if not all the ways in which he will try to trick you. That you’ve done this much research shows me you’re prepared for both of those instances, at least in part. In terms of a contingency, I may have a few tricks up my sleeve . . .”

Hekate began to pace around the room, thinking, deciding on the best course of action. A few simple spells were the obvious first choices. Powerful effigies or fetishes of Carol, Barron, and their assets might do the job, but perhaps that was too simple. She knew all manner of protective charms and amulets, but none, she suspected, would keep the Broker at bay for long should he become violent . . .

And then it came to her.

She turned back to face Carol, a large, ornate chest had materialized in her hands. Hekate placed the box on a table next to Carol, stepping away and pointing at it.

“This is how you shall protect yourself. Inside that box is a small fragment of an ancient alchemical manuscript, written in Aramaic and lost to time. My witches and I have been working tirelessly to recover what of it we can, and this piece, however small, possesses just the item you need.”

Hekate snapped her fingers, the ornate lock twisting and springing open, allowing the box to reveal its contents. Inside was a small, burnt fragment of a scroll. Carefully, she lifted it from the box, bits of dust floating away from where it had been sitting for who knows how long. Hekate opened the scroll and pointed to a particular passage, the faded image of a bottle surrounded by arcane markings.

“The item has no formal name, but it combines the earliest of alchemical teachings with an old form of sorcery that I scarcely recognize. It was used in those times to capture powerful spirits, demons included, and is one of the only artefacts that could conceivably trap Broker’s essence should the need arise.”

There was a smile, a thin grin appearing on Carol's face. “That should do nicely. Though I’m also not above utilizing the Heroes of this world if such a need arises. Many would serve well for a distraction and if we are lucky may have ways of dealing with him themselves although unlikely. Still for now we keep this safe, as I continue to dig up more info on Broker and keep our cards close to the chest.” Carol had brought out a bottle, and set it on the desk. “If you’d like any it’s a good year, it’s not much but it’s thanks for your time. As for our current plans everything is still on track.”

Hekate took up a glass and poured herself a small amount of the libation, a respectable gesture, though certainly not her favorite.

“There may be another way to thank me, one that might be more conducive to both of our time and efforts.” Hekate began, hoping that their conversation had put Carol in the giving mood. “Such an item is difficult to procure, even for one such as myself. Circumstance may dictate that my witches and I have greater access to your shared resources in order to perform our duties to you and your husband more diligently. I know that Mr. Vanderbilt keeps a fine collection of magical trinkets in storage, doling them out to the Families when needed, and it has occurred to me that, should I or any of the higher ranking members in my company have direct contact with these resources, we may be able to more aptly supply you and your husband with our services. This would also grant me the means to creating greater protections for you and your husband.”

This was all a half truth. Sure Hekate would uphold her contract with Barron and Carol, she didn’t have a choice. And of course greater access to Barron’s resources would further his reach, but so too would it further hers. Hekate could likely have taken whatever she wanted from his warehouses, but that would have eroded Barron’s trust. Asking for permission, while not the most dignified move, was also the more hospitable one.

Carol thought about it, sure within reason allowing access would be acceptable but there’d need to be limits, a system to track any borrowed items even if it’s a simple one. Not only that but Hekate was far more powerful than her she’d obtain what she wants one way or another, allowing Hekate to grow in power unchecked could cause problems. Still. “That would be acceptable, however there’d be limits, a inventory and a trust system when borrowing items. Wouldn’t want anything missing or damaged for too long after all. They’d be inaccessible for obvious reasons should anyone else need them.”

“Of course. I will have a ledger made with dates and times of certain items’ removal.” Hekate went to shake Carol’s hand before leaving, wanting to explore Barron’s warehouses now that she had the option, but a thought crossed her mind, something she had wondered in the few months that she had known Barron and Carol, but had only now considered asking since she and Carol were alone.

“Mrs. Vanderbilt. You are an extraordinary woman, as I’m sure your husband tells you all the time. Have you considered, at any point, taking up the skill of witchcraft to further you and your husband’s endeavors?”

“I have actually.” She said sitting her glass down and stopped just before she was about to sit in her chair. “Although it’s not just Witchcraft I’ve thought about, Magic is an interesting thing, it’s its own Science of sorts. But how far has it really progressed? How well has it adapted the new technology of this age, and what can be done to modernize it, weaponize it? Magic is the Firearms of the fifteen hundreds, if anyone could use magic like a gun then that’d be a force above all others.”

Hekate was displeased with her response. It was philosophical to be sure, an interesting query, but not one that interested Hekate. Still, she didn’t allow her unease to show. Instead, she would indulge Carol’s interest.

“Much of the old magic is seated in tradition, and what isn’t is left up to skills taught by outside forces and entities or experimentation on the part of the witch or magician. I suppose that my system of magic, witchcraft, has ‘progressed’ in the sense that many modern witches have come to utilize new age symbolism in their workings, items and reagents that didn’t exist in years past. It is a craft of cunning and ingenuity, after all. And I would argue, Mrs. Vanderbilt, that it is the mystery of magic that makes it so alluring, so deadly. Not just anyone can use magic like a firearm or other weapon. It isn’t quite as transparent as these mediums of destruction. And, what’s more, it is not itself just a weapon, but a tool. A gun has but so many uses, very few of them subtle. But magic has infinitely more.”

“It is more utilitarian, however other magics are more likely to be utilized in a more convenient delivery system. I do intend to fully investigate magics, I may be a novice, but a lab has been created to study some in a more conventional space. It would certainly be a great asset.”

“Well, should you wish for any formal instruction in witchcraft and sorcery, you need but ask.”

“I may take you up on that offer, for now, it’s been a productive day.”

Hekate gave a sinister smile. “Indeed it has . . .” With that, she vanished behind a thick cloud of darkness, along with the dusty manuscript, off to her haven among Las Vegas’s witches, off to discover something new.

Silence pulled in off the mostly deserted road, his headlights illuminating an otherwise obscured turning to his left into the forest a few miles out of town. Tires squealed as they struggled to maintain traction and he sped down a bendy dirt-track. It was the sort of thing he was expecting from the Lab, it was way off the beaten track. He personally figured that was the best way to hide the sort of nefarious activity they were up to. It also made his job a little easier, as he had a feeling there was going to be a little noise when he was finished, the further the place was from civilisation, and police, the better. It meant he only had the personnel inside to deal with, the armed guard that was, the doctors posed no realistic threat to someone like him.

His fingers brushed through his dyed black hair, as he thought through his rudimentary plan. It wasn’t like him to go in half-cocked so to speak, but this time around he’d just have to improvise, there wasn’t any convenient way for him to get the information he needed. Hopefully, the guards would have that same quality they tended to have the world over, complacency. Tired of sitting on their asses, never tested, certainly never hardened by adversity. If they were ex-army or navy boys things could be a little problematic, but he doubted it, people would notice a bunch of vets in town heading out to a single two storey in the forest. They were probably average joes for the most part, maybe two or three experienced guards among them to worry about.

His mind went through his plan of action one last time as he pulled up to the security booth. Step by step.

1. Disable gatekeepers
2. Follow Dr Short’s usual path into work, take a left before her lab, labelled genetics, and follow the corridor to Holding.
3. Enter Holding, bar the door, take workers hostage and have them disable the security measures in Michael Garth’s prison.
4. Take the doctors, use them as hostages, leave the way you came with Garth, send the Doc's back into the lab before getting back in your vehicle.
5. Take Garth away, direct him to Racheli, profit.

No plan survives contact with the enemy, but to give some sleepy 9-5 guards eager to get home after a long shift a respectable enemy would be pushing it. There were two of them, a Caucasian and an African American, both on the hefty side, both in view of his car window. Bad decision.

“Dr Short, what are you doing back here, forgot something?” The older guy said, speaking to a closed and thankfully tinted window. Silence checked over his tranquiliser gun, flicked the safety, and reeled down the window.

Ptthh, ptthh.

“Wha-“ Two darts took the first guard in the chest and neck, and two more followed for his compatriot who was at least alert enough to go for his gun as he saw the male features around the mask Silence was wearing. They slumped to the ground, the sedative flooding their bloodstream and robbing them of their faculties, by the look of them, for at least an hour. No point murdering anyone unless he had to, Silence rationalised, leaving his car and pressing the button to remove the barrier. He got back in, slammed the door shut, and pulled forward. The criminal could help but hope the guards weren’t due to be swapped over too soon, or things could get messy for him on exit.

Two minutes later, he was marching down the corridor of the large one story building he had come to infiltrate, another guard sleeping soundly behind him just outside the main door with his jacket draped over his face. Where clearance was required, Dr Short’s identification key card came in handy, and he was breezing through most of the security. His luck carried him through the main hall, past genetics, and all the way to the doors of Holding, where he was told Michael Garth was kept penned up like an animal. Not an altogether unfair state of affairs, from what Silence had read about Rach’s Father, he summarised he was an animal. Ironic that Lekh was ignorant of how right that assertion was. In any case, his luck finally failed him at Holding.

“Access, denied, invalid clearance.”

“It seems you have outlived your usefulness, Dr Short.” Silence muttered to the key card sardonically while considering his options. The door was quite robust, certainly too difficult for him to smash down with brute force, and the viewing window was triple paned as far as he could tell. Even if he broke through the glass he’d never fit through and that massive chunk of metal would still be blocking his passage. So, where strength would fail, perhaps guile would serve. Maybe. He knocked on the glass three times, sharply, removing his face mask and adopting a worried expression. A spectacled man appeared at the glass.

“Can we get some help out here! Steve has collapsed, we think he’s having a seizure." Silence adopted a panicked ‘amurican accent just for the occasion.

“What? Damnit, I told Steve to watch the sugar, he’s diabetic. Hold on a moment.” The doctor dropped from view as Silence hopped from one foot to the other wringing his hands, it was good to keep in practice. A moment later the metallic door clicked and swung open, the Doctor rushed past him, paying no attention to the gun behind his leg or the mask in his back pocket. He was about to turn and ask where Steve was when Silence put two darts in his back.

”My god, it must be contagious, you have it too Doc.” Silence quipped, taking something from the sleeping Doctor and walking through the open door into Holding, and what a room of horrors it was.

The centre of the room was occupied with a pit, of sorts, though to call it a pit may have been something of an oversimplification. All manner of electrical devices surrounded it, and the room itself was plugged full of monitoring equipment out the wazoo. Men and women, about twelve in all, sat at different monitors and walked around chattering in low tones. They were probably learning all sorts of interesting things about the brain waves of a metahuman, not to mention different chemical signatures, unusual markers in biology, that sort of thing. For a moment, Silence’s curiosity almost had him, not to mention his obsession, but he curbed his enthusiasm so to speak and got to business. He fixed the mask in place without anyone even glancing in his direction.

”Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention.” He spoke in a measured tone, but loud enough to be heard. Heads started to turn towards the unfamiliar foreign tone, and alarm shone in every turned face. He was holding a gun!

”Do not be alarmed, I have not come here today to kill any of you, unless you fail to comply with my demands." As the door shut behind him, he scanned across it with a stolen pass and heard the door lock. Five questions rang out at once, but he shut them up by swinging his weapon across them, a few screams escaped before he quieted them with a raised palm.

“Quiet, you heard what I said, do as I say and you will not die here. Now, tell me and do not even think to lie to me, is the subject being monitored below Michael Garth?"

One scientist, an older lady with the sense not to bullshit in a situation as dire as this one, even if it was far from her normal sphere of experience, answered him in the affirmative.

”Good, wake him up and let him out."

“You can’t do that!” A young man exclaimed, his handsome features screwed up in indignant fear.

”Yes, I can, because I have a gun. Do as I say Doctors, or you may very well have to bandage some bullet holes.” He tipped the gun to egg them on. The room filled with a general hubbub of activity and whispered deliberations as the doctors worked to shut down defensive precautions surrounding their dangerous prisoner.

“He’ll kill us and you if he gets out you know.” The older lady said, walking over to Silence as he stood watching the doctors with coldly dispassionate eyes. “He can change his body, transform, he’s a meta.”

”He will not be killing any of you, I can assure you of that.”

“How can you be sure?”

”Because I will ensure it.”

Michael Garth turned out to be quite a disappointing specimen in truth, an aged and rather ragged looking man, thinner than he should have been since being put in a coma after his last brutal escape attempt. Silence couldn’t muster any sympathy for the mass murderer, nor did he want to. It was uncertain what he intended to do with all the cables and tubes still stuck in his body, his legs barely obeying him, his mind wandering, as he was lifted from his prison. Even so, his arms strained and his muscles bunched as if he wanted to rip everyone around him to pieces. Silence had him put in a wheelchair they used for manoeuvring him about the place while unconscious.

”Thank you, Doctors, but there will be one more thing. I will need you all to accompany me outside, do not think to run, I will kill those who remain even if you escape. Bear with me for a few more minutes and your ordeal will be over." He led them as a herd, surrounding him pseudo-protectively. Some gasped as he rolled around the sleeping body of their fellow doctor, and they made it all the way to the genetics lab before things went to shit. Michael Garth had managed to rally himself by that point, and was mutating before Silence’s very eyes, the Doctors were screaming because they knew what came next, and from further down the corridor voices called out for him to halt. The Doctors were on the brink of running, and if they fled, he’d have to make good on his promise or lose them all.

”None of that, Michael.” Silence put his tranq gun to the man’s neck even as it began to bulge and sprout fur, and suddenly there was a quilled spike protruding from his flesh. On top of all his recent drug doses, it knocked him out like a light. The serial killer slumped back in his chair and Silence pulled him up straight, eyeing the Doctors before they thought to run. The heavy tread of guard’s boots filled his ears as he peeked over some lanky scientist’s head and saw two armed men running towards him.

”I would advise you men to turn around, unless you want me to put holes in six or seven of your charges.” Silence coldly called to them, the malice in his voice brooking no disagreement.

“Alright buddy, we’ll back off, don’t you shoot the docs or we’ll light you up like a fucking Christmas tree.”

”And all of these people will die, do not let me see you, I will allow these people to leave when I am out of the premises." He wheeled Michael Garth down the corridor, being sure to keep hostages on his blind spots as handy bullet sponges. He was also liberally dousing the Docs with his aura, keeping them sluggish, he didn’t want them having any bright ideas now. Hostage taking was always a delicate balancing act, so it was good for him to have a certain advantage to shift things in his favour. His impromptu herd carried him all the way to the door, and not one doctor had to be put down for ‘bravely’ trying to seize his weapon or cowardly attempting to flee. This had gone pretty well.

Silence had the doctors throw Michael Garth in the back seat of his vehicle, and then he got two in the front seat, taking the back for himself. But not before giving the rest of the Docs his instructions.

”Go to your guards, tell them not to follow me or the Doctors I have taken will die. Tell them they will lose nothing but a dead man if they acquiesce to my demands.” They nodded, desperately glad not to be the ones chosen, and he got into the backseat of his vehicle beside the slumbering serial killer. He sighed, putting his weapon to the nape of the elderly woman’s neck.

”Drive, leave the compound, follow the road, do not deviate from my instructions or you and your colleague will die.”

“Yes… yes okay.”

One Hour Later

”Pull over.”

The doctors started whimpering as he forced them out the door of the car. Well, one of them did, the handsome young man. The older doc was made of sterner stuff apparently.

“Are you going to kill us now?”

”No, I am not so inclined. In fact, I would have you save a life. I will leave you here to find your own way back to town, do so, and visit your colleague Doctor Short, you will find her tied up in her living room." He waved his gun at them and turned back to the car. ”Now go.”

Two Hours Later

“Ummm, where am I? And why does my head fill like an ax has embedded itself in my skull?" A voice from behind Silence, surprisingly mild mannered for a man that can turn into a monster, but appearances could be deceiving.

”Awake are we, Mr Garth?” Silence turned briefly, studying Michael’s expression, and gauging his faculties. He figured he had a few minutes before the man was capable of doing whatever it is he could do. The sleek black estate pulled up alongside another forest road, deserted in the middle of the night. Silence turned around to the killer in his backseat, still masked, his blue eyes cold and dead.

”Mr Garth, I represent an independent individual interested in your well-being. That is all that you need to know.”

"I don't appreciate being left in the dark and few individuals care for my well being without a gain. Now, my question is why?"

”Again, unimportant. What is important is that the person I represent would see you reunited with someone dear to you." Silence flicked a dossier onto the man’s chest, he opened it up with trembling fingers.

”Your daughter, Racheli, Desdemonda, all grown up now. That is her walking the streets of Lost Haven. You should go to her.” Silence pushed open the door, walking around to the back where Michael was peering at the pictures in front of him, something indescribable written on his face. Silence popped open his door, looking into that face, he felt a little sick. Only a little though.

”Now, you are on your own from here.” Silence smiled beneath his mask, hoisted the weakened man from his seat and then flung him down a grassy bank, where he rolled to a stop after slamming into the trunk of a tree with a heavy thud. Even then he hardly glanced at his saviour, all his intense focus was saved for that photo he held. That terrible face began to break and bend before Lekh's very eyes, and he decided it was probably about time to go. His work was done.

Now let us see what hell he had wrought.

Location-Natural History Museum, NYC
Time-Noon
@Shard@fdeviant @Fallenreaper@VATROU

Sighing, she turned her head to Ben, watching his movements closely. She smiled gently as she heard his words in her head and she nodded in confirmation.

’Yes I am like you. You can trust me to help you’She said in her mind to him. She sat down with him and petted his fur gently. It had been a while since she felt the fur of a new born werewolf and how rough it was at first. She looked at the male that was currently holding Ben.

”You must be Skylar...judging by your scent and what my sister told me about” Ji commented. Her sense of smell suddenly began to tingle and draw red flags in her brain. Standing, she allowed her newly healed hands to glow a dark green.

”Guy we should get the fuck out of here now!” Ji shouted as the door was opened.The smell of death and blood flooded her nose. She tried not to gag and keep her magic under control, as the girl, Marie, she thought her name was tried to strike up a conversation with the newly arrived male.

She grabbed her own hand to keep it down by her side, only to see Ben getting ready to pounce and attack the guy. Knowing that a newborn was no where near strong enough to defeat the likes of him, she had to prevent him from pouncing. Flaring her magic , she used the stone floor beneath to form a large and rather thick stone wall, the stone floor connected to the bottom cracking and shattering into large pieces to hold it up.

"We need to get been out of here now! she shouted to Skylar.

The Present
A young woman sat perched in a window seat on the downtown No.9. She was unremarkable in every way and things that should stand out were all too easily dismissible. Her odd perched posture—with her feet up on the seat with her, touched into a defensive ball—could easily be explained away by the morning's chilly air. The same could be said about the hood of her hoodie being down over her face. As she leaned her head against the window it swayed gently with the morning commute occasionally causing her big thick black rimmed "hipster glasses" to tap against the glass. She had completely checked out and they did little to hide it. Explaining the expression was a cable that ran from her ears into the phone she clutched in her hands where an internet streaming app seemed to be running. The only thing that was even remotely remarkable, about this otherwise unremarkable girl, was the fact that she didn't seem to be going anywhere since she had already been on the bus for an hour and let every stop pass her by. This too could be explained by the state of her attire, and the fact that the phone was plugged into a charger on the bus. These were difficult times for everyone and it was human nature to want to stare, but also a unwritten rule of society not to. Little did anyone realize they couldn't even if they wanted to. ℝoot made sure of that.

In her favorite table-top it was called 'Obfuscation' but she doing nothing so involved as generating a perception filter. No. She simply dressed the part of a homeless woman, and simply didn't make an effort to correct others assumptions. It was true that she was somewhere else. Someone else. While she let her body drift through Lost Haven's public transit circuit her mind running a test through a different network.

She smiled all her hard work as it payed off. This one had proven a bit of a challenge. She of course knew exactly how she would have done it before awakening to her powers (with blackmail, extortion, after hacking the evidence of course), but needed to know the limits of her new 'systems'. This which meant she had to do it without any of her conventional tech, or tools of the trade, and it really was her crowning achievement thus far.

---

Two Weeks Ago
A sharp suit stepped out of an expensive car and walked into the front door of a large intercity home. He carefully set his brief-case down by the door and less-than-carefully tossed his keys on the end-table in the hall while calling out to his maid. He was a wealthy investment banker that had done very well for himself this quarter due to the gray areas in which his company of employ operated. He had just sealed the deal with a prestigious new client earlier that day or, at least, nearly had done so when he had found the requisite paperwork to do so was not anywhere to be found and the meeting was put off until tomorrow.

It was in this moment of contemplation that his phone rang. "Jackson," he spoke his name in introduction.

"Mr. Street. This is Mr. Smith. Our mutual acquaintance–" the voice on the other line began but was cut off.

"You have the wrong number. I'm Mr. Jackson," Mr. Jackson said.

As hung up the phone the voice on the other end simply said: "For now."

---

The Present
"One task," Mr. Street said to Mr. Smith as he tapped the gun to the side of his head. Mr. Jackson had long since been unraveled by this new role he was forced into. The frayed and frazzled mess of a man then pointed the gun at his companion. "That's what you said. Just one." The sound of sirens closing closer forced the question of what was real, and what was imagined. He violently thrust the gun again toward Mr. Smith as the duo stood on the sales floor at the firm in the dead of night. "If I'm going down then I'm taking you with me!" the former Mr. Jackson said as he closed the distance between the two of them and thrust the gun deep under Mr. Smith's jaw.

"Mr. Street," Mr. Smith said in response "We both know that the weed of crime bears bitter fruit."

"Stop saying that!" Mr. Street repeated over and over again as he pulled the trigger and nearly emptied his gun into Mr. Smith's soft tissue; hollowing out what was left of his skull one bullet at a time.

---

Ten Days Ago
Mr. Jackson's life had been spiraling wildly out of control ever since he had gotten that mysterious phone call. The deal with his prestigious client went to a competitor. That was the least of his concerns, however, as he was now suspended over it. No. Those were not the worst parts. The worst part is what came after that

Once again, for what must have been the seven hundredth time today, Mr. Jackson dropped the keys to a car he no longer owned on his table and they glowed. Whenever they were not in his possession they glowed. When he could not see them he could feel their radiating warmth. Such a thing was not possible as they were simple aluminum. He had already seen a number of specialists and none could find a source for this phenomenon, and each time he thought he could put it out of his mind his phone rang. When it did he could taste it. His phone didn't actually ring when he could taste it; he could just hear it ringing. He had long since put it on silent mode, and now felt it ringing, when it really rang just as it was doing now, and that sensation was never accompanied with taste.

"Mr. Street," Mr. Smith said as Mr. Jackson answered the phone. "I have a proposition for you. If you agree my organization make everything right in your life."

"And, if I don't?" Mr. Jackson responded.

"Please, Mr. Street. You're an intelligent man. I'm sure you'd rather use your imagination than ask me to use mine."

---

The Present
Mr. Street, when confronted by the sounds of sirens switching off outside turned his rage inward. This wasn't the man he was. He was a player. A man who cheats the system, and not a common place thug. It shouldn't have been possible for Mr. Smith to utter that last line with ten nine-mil slugs in his brain be did. "We have the building surrounded!" came from a megaphone from outside, quickly adding, "Release the hostages and come out with your hands up."

Hostages? As Mr. Jackson looked around the thin veneer cracked around the world he had been living it. He placed the barrel of his weapon in his mouth. "The Shadow knows..."

"The Shadow knows," the young woman on the bus muttered again—under her breath, and after the fact—as somewhere across town a gun was turned on its owner, and three shots filled the quiet morning air.

---

Eight Days Ago
The place was a total dive. Somewhere neither suited up men would ever expect to be found let alone find themselves. Mr. Smith sat across from Mr. Jackson. "Two hundred seventy million," Mr. Smith repeated, "Let's face it: the window on this deal is closing quickly. That little drug deal that went down in your company's mail room has opened up all manner of investigations, any which of will take you down." Mr. Smith slid an envelope across the table to Mr. Jackson. "One task, and when you're done, Mr. Street will be sitting on a beach sipping mojitos in the non-extraditable country of his choosing."

Mr. Jackson looked into the folder to see one prophecy come true: it contained his likeness on some fake IDs for one Mr. Street. "You set me up?"

"Yes," Mr. Smith said plainly. "I also know the cause for your synesthesia. You should know, being in the business we're in, that inside information is worth a premium."

Mr. Jackson thought long and hard about the situation he was in with the cops, and the street breathing down his neck. He had also been riding a desk waiting for his employers to come up with grounds for termination that he couldn't contest in court. "I'll do it." Mr. Jackson said.

---

The Present
The glazed expression slowly left ℝoot's face as she checked her phone. There was breaking news filtering in complete with witness testimony.

"I just don't get it," said one witness whom a camera was shakily pointed at as the cameraman steadied himself for the long list of interviews to come. "Jackson came in for work like any other day but walked right past me. He ignored everyone and just sat down at his computer like he didn't even see us." There was a hard cut to another coworoker, a smartly dressed woman, "Yeah, and in front of everyone he just starts emptying the corporate accounts." Another heavier set co-worker questioned continued the story in one-on-one interview form, in its exact events but with his own take on them. "He was talkin' like someone was there. Talkin' 'bout how The Shadow knows." Co-worker after co-worker relayed their own take on that line before the juicy bits were focused. "Then Jackson just pulls this gun and waves it around. Fires ten shots into the computer before..."

---

Four days ago
Everything was wrong. The money was gone. No one had seen Mr. Smith. His symptoms were getting worse as the whole world made no sense to his senses. There was no money. Well, there was, but he didn't get any of it. He needed to get a hold of Mr. Smith. To confront him. He scrolled through his phone failing to find any trace of the numerous calls they had made back and forth. Every trace of Mr. Smith was gone but they had one last scheduled meeting before the hack. He had to hold out until the very last minute. He had time to decide, and decide he did. He would need a gun to get the answers he needed. He needed to get his money and get out. Back to his investments. To get his life back to normal.

---

The Present

ℝoot closed her phone and slid it into the front pocket of her hoodie. It was done. Mr. Smith had been the most complicated projection she had ever constructed and, had she not paired her phone to his earlier, she would have had no link by which push the telepathic interactions into Mr. Jackson's mind. The synestesia was an important first step. Convincing the man that his sense couldn't be trusted was of paramount importance, and a simple task by which to stretch her super-powered self. That's because it would have been impossible to life-spoof a complete human being, but much simpler to spoof a "mental video" of their interactions and trigger the memory in real time.

The grim smile faded from her face as she gave consideration to what the police would find when they investigated further: the same thing she found that made her target the man in the first place. It was one thing to skim money from the cartel's pocket lawyers. It was another entirely to use that money to engage in human trafficking. While she did swear to limit her digital interactions with Mr. Jackson, she had no qualms about turning over his entire network to the Malaysian authorities and Interpol. After all, the sex slave business was bad enough without the involvement of children.

ℝoot liked to imagine there was still some honor among thieves. That, if the cartel knew, then they would have delivered a similar fate upon the man.

Eva sat a glass of water on the counter next to the sink, while a bottle filled with pills rattled in her hands as she took them from their spot. She cracked it open and downed a pill with some water before taking a morning shower, meanwhile… The current Van Helsing a young Abraham Moss had disembarked from his flight in John F Kennedy Airport his suitcase a portable pocket dimension the size of a small house. He checked his watch and set the spell to innocuous for his suitcase in the event of possible bag checks as he strode through the terminal heading to the Cabby pick up zone. Annette his Gypsy friend had located the most likely place where Alistair would have lived, considering that name was uncommon and the lavish Mansion he lived in there were few places that matched up, one such was in New York, a vast Mansion overlooking Central Park. It was still owned by the Wahlforth’s rich English Nobility who aren’t so rich as they once were, still as he walked up to the Mansion he cased the outside and noted how many people seemed to walk past it thinking. Now’s not really the time for this, looks like I’ll need to come back.. Abe held a compass which pointed directly towards the Mansion, holding a weak magic signal which either meant what he was looking for was deeper inside or that it was just magic trinkets and the weapons had been moved elsewhere. Either way he needed to get inside without causing a scene, breaking in mid day would not do.

-- Back at Aunt Briley’s Home --

Eva not quite having anything to do sat around at home, doing some laundry and eating cereal. Nothing like a little Lucky Charms to give you that boost of luck, although as Eva continued to think on it they probably didn’t help with that. As much as she should be out there, doing some kinda patrol of some sort she was still too exhausted from her adventure in Avalon her legs were sore and her neck had a not in it. Thankfully her back was faring well one of the reasons she’s glad she doesn’t have spider gals’ bust size. M&Ms sat in a bowl as Eva munched down on a few, Witcher 3 played on a console in the background mostly cause she heard it was a good game and secondly wanted to know if anything in it could be useful. Although Eva prefered Apocalyptic games Arthur floated in looking unimpressed by the combat. ”It’s woefully fantasized, still. There does seem to be proper elements of sword fighting, his dodges are perfect, though rolls are just terrible they open too many points of attack. All in all, I’d say those signs he uses are the only thing you’d make use of, given your utter lack of magic prowess.”

”Thanks, signs are a thing by the way?” Eva asked mildly surprised.

”Not exactly like they’re portrayed but yes. There are schools of magic specialized in gems, runes and more that don’t require any inherent ability to cast. Your friend or lack of a better word Rune it was, might have some knowledge of them. Use them like disposable magic grenades of sorts, a one time spell.”

”I. See, might come in handy gotta ask him about runes next time I see him,” Eva was cut off from sound coming from the TV in the living room, Aunt Briley had the channel tuned to the news as her conversation with the Pacific Point Manager for Poseidon Energies raged on. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN!. What has broken into the facility!?... Knights, Monsters. I, damnit! Just get security to seal off what breaches they find, maybe they’ll minimize damage. I’ll be down first flight out.” Her body slumped across the couch as Eva walked downstairs as the TV showed excessive destruction and video game characters brought to life. Briley’s head tracked Eva as she entered the living room. “I know this might be a bit much, and I don’t want to put you in danger, but can you go down there and help put a stop to this? There’s sensitive technologies there, and anyone could waltz in and take them.”

”You, mean. I get to go out and kill video game characters! I wonder if they’ll be any of my favorites, no. Serious time here, Yeah, I’ll get down there. Then I’ll geek out.” Aunt Briley watched Eva’s face light up, something that hadn’t happen in a good time now and as Eva bounded out the door into Merlin’s Library she spoke. “Why do I have a really bad feeling about this.”

While Eva crossed the magic door and opened the other side from the Library she could see the Pacific Point Poseidon facility, and as the door closed she sighted a Knight, one who might have broken into the building and an odd girl. Excalibur weighed at her side as the Knight held a shovel? Before they could act she proclaimed. ”Stop! Are you the ones who caused that destruction behind you!” Only to hear a voice bounding from the street behind her which made her spin her head. “YOU STAND ON U.S SOIL MUTIE! BY THE ORDER OF PRESIDENT RICHARDSON YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED!! FOR YOU HAVE CROSSED. FRANK HORRIGAN!” As frightened civilians stood in front of the massively armored behemoth. ”Oh Blow me, that’s a really bad Boss encounter.”